


The Things I Would Do To You

by makotako



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-06
Updated: 2013-11-06
Packaged: 2017-12-31 15:36:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1033374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/makotako/pseuds/makotako
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They're hungry, fuelled by some emotion she's not yet glimpsed prior to this moment, and she falls prey to the easy, confident way he slants his mouth across hers. His palm cradles her jaw, fingers tangling in the dark silk of her hair. </p><p>All around her—it's him, it's Raleigh.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Things I Would Do To You

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first attempt at a fic (and only half of an entirety). I hope you enjoy it.

   The sight of him sitting upon her stoop, legs extended and arm tossed across his eyes, causes a halt in her steps. A brow ticks higher, chin canting curiously as she regards the male. This is perhaps the first time she's found him waiting there; usually, he's off conversing with Mr. Choi or in his own room.

   As she strides toward him—and her destination—she notices he doesn't glance up. Curiouser and curiouser. He's usually so attuned to her presence, so aware of her push and pull; they're the same in that regard. 

   Always caught in each other's gravitational pull.

    **“** What are you doing, Raleigh? **”**

   He does not reply, merely stares. The line of his shoulders shifts, relaxes visibly beneath the heavy knit of his sweater and he simply offers his familiar, charming smile.

   Still, he says nothing. 

   Mako's beginning to grow wary of his presence. There's something in his gaze that she cannot quite make sense of, the set of his jaw unfamiliar and the touch upon her back as she steps past him rougher than she's used to. But of course, she says nothing, simply pushing open the heavy steel door without a glance back. 

   It doesn't surprise her when she feels more than hears him follow after her.  
   It does surprise her when she feels the calloused tips of his fingers catch the firm upper of her arm.

    **“** Wha— **”**

   The question falls short, cut off by the feel of lips upon hers. They're hungry, fuelled by some emotion she's not yet glimpsed prior to this moment, and she falls prey to the easy, confident way he slants his mouth across hers. His palm cradles her jaw, fingers tangling in the dark silk of her hair. 

   All around her—it's him, it's Raleigh.

   When they surface from the kiss, they're both breathless, wide-eyed and delirious. The swell of her chest rises and falls in uneven exhales, hands trembling at her sides.

   Brown meet blue.   
   A question.  
   An answer.

   No words are exchanged, no verbalisation of the agreement that passes unbidden between them. And they aren't needed, because he knows her, understands her as intimately as he knows himself.

   Still, he needs more. Needs the feeling of her in his arms, on his tongue— _everywhere_.

   The moment he advances on her, she's meeting him, and they're crashing together, biting teeth and voracious mouths. One hand is on her waist, trailing across the supple underside of her breast; the other grips her hip and she's sure the imprint of his broad palm and strong fingers will remain for weeks to come. She doesn't mind though. With a steady grasp, he draws her closer until they're hip to hip and chest to chest, and then he's shifting, bending and rising and sweeping her into his arms.

   Legs hook around his hips, arms wrap around her lithe frame.

   So closely intertwined, she can feel the steady rhythm of his heart against her chest. She notes, with unabashed satisfaction, that their hearts beat in tandem.

   Together, they fall upon her bed, never breaking contact.

   Hungry, biting kisses are exchanged; she catches his lip between teeth and worries it, drawing forth a moan that catches her attention in the best of ways. Fingers dig into the bone of her hip, tickling and attentive, before sweeping lower, dipping over her inner thigh; she whimpers, the sound caught by his mouth as his tongue sweeps tantalizingly over her own. Everything they do to one another is natural, like they've been doing it for years. There is no thought put into their actions and there doesn't have to be—because they've seen exactly what each other needs.

   What each other  _wants_.

    **“** Oh, Mako. **”**  His tone is reverent, adoring and husky as he breathes it against the slope of her neck. He inhales deeply, slowly, memorising the clean, fresh scent of her. She smiles against his forehead, slender fingers threading into sandy blond strands.

    **“** Yes? **”**  The smugness in her voice is clear, mirrored in the curve of her mouth.  

   No reply comes however, no words breach the silence that falls over them. Instead, he answers in little tender kisses swept across her collarbone, interspersed with sharp nips that make her mewl and whimper.

   Although she cannot see his face, she can feel the equally self-satisfied smirk he wears. Can feel it tracing down the front of her shirt until he's reached the hem, upon which fingers, deft and capable, replace his enticing mouth. 

    **“** Arms up, **”**  he commands without an upward glance and the sharp edge of his voice amazes her. Turns her on in a way that she's surprised by. She acquiesces, allows the removal of the sheer white cotton that leaves her in only a plain black bra that sweeps low over her breasts and hooks at the front.  

   Now, he sits back, studying her, drinking her in with an appreciative gaze that emboldens her rather than the opposite.

   Without a word, she reaches for him, for the broad slope of his shoulders to drag him closer. She misses the taste of him, the feel of his mouth eager and unrelenting upon hers. It seems he has another idea as he shies from her touch, catches her wandering hands within his own. 

 **“** No, **”**  is all he says, transferring petite wrists into the grasp of a single hand; the other falls, drifts across the curve of her chest.

   She inhales sharply, lashes fluttering, casting long shadows across chiselled cheeks. He chuckles and the pressure increases as he lays the flat of his palm over the swell, kneading gently. Again, she inhales, though the sound breaks, develops into a gasp the moment fingers circle her sensitive nipple. Without thought, her spine arches and her hips shift, pressing eagerly into his touch.

   From above her, Raleigh only notes how beautiful she looks. Dark hair splays across the sheets, a stark contrast he delights in; her gaze is heavy-lidded, delirious with a hunger that he eagerly seeks to satisfy.

   Beneath him, lips bruised and ruby red, curl into a pout that hits him low in the gut. It sparks an impatience he'd previously kept in check, draws his attention to the feeling of her hip against his, brushing across his steadily hardening erection. A low hiss passes through clenched teeth and he lowers his head, mouth moving roughly over her velveteen skin. It doesn't occur to him that the stubble he wears will bother her; especially not when Mako begins to moan, the sound rolling off her tongue like molasses. He revels in this, in the fact that he can please her in ways no one else can. 

    **“** Patience, Miss Mori, **”**  he chides teasingly before his teeth have caught the edge of her nipple, tugging gently. That elicits a jerk of her hips and a wild gasp that only drives him to work her more thoroughly.

   The hand that had previously rested upon the bed shifts lower, slides heavy over the taut expanse of her stomach. A single digit fingers the elastic waistband of her sweatpants, pulls them lower slowly, inch by inch. All the while, his mouth continues to move sweetly over her chest. From nipple to neck, collarbone to jaw, he peppers kisses and bites, his tongue laving at the patches of red he creates across porcelain skin.

   By the time he's shifted her pants halfway down her thighs, he suspects she doesn't even notice. When he glances up, her eyes are shut, her lips parted in a such a way that Raleigh's almost tempted to lean up and catch them. But he doesn't, because he's got bigger, better things in store.

   Eyes, glazed over by lust and love, eye the lace of her underwear with curiosity. It's not what he expected, a burst of colour that seems out of place in her wardrobe of muted neutrals and dark fabrics.

   It's nice though. The black of her (now discarded) bra goes well with the vibrancy of the navy bikini briefs she wears.

   What would be nicer, though, is what lies beneath.

    **“** Mako. **”**  He speaks more for himself than for her, his gaze never straying from the womanly curve of her hips or the juncture of her legs that's covered only by the thin cotton. When fingers tangle into his hair, he knows he's caught her attention, and that's his cue.

   Fingers push aside the material and he lowers his head, intoxicated by the scent of her. Then his tongue sweeps, long and purposeful, over her slit. Just the taste of her makes him groan appreciatively and he repeats the motion, grinning with satisfaction when he hears her broken cry. It's meant to be his name, he's sure, but it sounds garbled and indistinct to his ears. He's far too involved with the task at hand, with the honey taste of her and the smooth texture of her folds beneath his experienced tongue.

   If there's anything sweeter than this, Raleigh hasn't tasted it yet.

   His mouth finds her heated core once more, carefully, leisurely trailing his tongue from top to bottom. At the feel of her clit, he sucks gently, draws the sensitive nub into his mouth.

   He's rewarded with a buck of her hips and a drawn out moan. 

    **“** Relax. **”**  He breathes against her hot inner thigh, biting gently at the smooth skin. 

    **“** We're only getting started. **”**

 


End file.
